Pink and purple lotus flower design with an Om symbol above it, drawn in black linework with coloured pencil shading on cream paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lotus flower with Om symbol design

Botanical · Colour · Flash

A stylised lotus flower with layered pink and purple petals, each with black spiral detailing, sits centrally in the drawing. An Om symbol rises above it, with flowing black swirls and dotted accents extending from the petals and the base. The linework is bold and even, with soft colour shading on a plain cream background.

Botanical Lotus Om symbol Flower Swirl Spiral Petal Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody at the Palais on Rowan Street ever asked what the pink flower on the ceiling meant. Dad painted it in 1951, up a ladder with a tin of distemper, the week the Saturday dances started again. A lotus, he said, grows out of mud and still opens clean, and a dance hall in a wet town needed reminding of that.

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The Om sat above the stage where the drummer kept his spare sticks. Dad had copied it from a book a sailor left behind, and he never got the curl right, so the letter looked like a sleeping swan to everyone but him. My sister Maureen thought the whole thing was a squiggle. I liked the spirals on the petals, how your eye went round and round them until the band hit the last chord and you stepped out into the car park dizzy and happy.

By spring 1962 the floor had gone soft from thirteen years of waltzes, and the council wanted it pulled up for parking. Maureen and I had one last Saturday to get the place ready. We swept, we polished the brass rail, and at midnight we stood beneath the lotus while the final couple shuffled out to Moonlight Serenade. Maureen said we should paint over it. I said no.

The car park is still there, with a sign that reads Lotus Parking, which nobody understands. I drive past it on the way to my allotment and think of Dad on that ladder, rinsing his brush, telling me the mud is always the part people forget.